I began this blog in September, 2011. I have been writing weekly, (and on occasion, weakly), since. Prior to this exercise, in 2010, I self-published a book called "Burgeoning Whatnot: A Father's Monologue To His Adult Children." Below are the first 2+ paragraphs from its Introduction.

"It is with no small amount of trepidation that I enter the final stages of manuscript preparation, and ready myself to hand this book to you. Perfectly capturing my anxieties, the following sentences from Carol Shield's 1995 Pulitzer Prize winning "The Stone Diaries" caught my attention: "This 'work of art' is about to become one of those comical, tasteless presents, like the ceramic lobster platter and the atrocious bisque wall plaque, which are consigned, and quickly, to the basement or garage, and which eventually become the subject of private family jokes or anecdotes. No matter. It has been executed with love..." (pp 114-15). As evidenced in your hands, I believe the trailing sentences to have greater import than the initial thought.

I encourage you to read (or not read) this book of 'thoughts as poems' in any way that your spirit moves you. You will find (with a few exceptions) my comments at the end of each poem. You will also find two groupings of consecutive poems; one 'On Baseball' and one 'On Writing'. In addition you will see an assortment of 'Nuggets' or untitled short works scattered throughout. Generally speaking and inclusive of the aforementioned, each piece of Whatnot stands on its own. As you read, I strongly encourage you to (remember your teenage years and) rebel. Sever familial entanglements as best as you can, so that you may disagree, apply your own interpretations, and think things through to a deeper level than what I present. Words communicate ineffectively, yet can be a catalyst to unspoken thoughts and quiet reflection which will more readily lead you to more meaningful truths.

This book is moved by Loving-Kindness, filled with Compassion, shared with Joy, beat into shape with Persistence, and grounded in Structure..."

There is a certain melancholy surrounding this reminiscence, as I believe there frequently is when one looks back at a personal effort that does not meet personal expectations. Yet, for me, that is an apt and relevant description of every effort, no matter how small or large, made throughout my life. If I am completely satisfied with an outcome, I am recognizing only a portion of its meaningful impact. There will always be a portion relegated to a couple of boxes out in the garage.

With that said, I would do nothing different in this regard. This past 10+ years of studying and thinking and writing have been most edifying. I am now working on a change that may, in the near future, redirect some effort; but I can foresee nothing that will break this habit.

I often encourage one to not live in the past, yet this week many personal thoughts have been drawn in that direction. I also say to myself, at least once daily, "having learned from the past, I will live in the moment, for the future." Perhaps instead of "having learned" I should say "still learning" as a reminder to, on occasion, purposefully look back to remember, (and to possibly add a greater depth to), previous learning. This week I was drawn to one Sonnet in particular, from Burgeoning Whatnot:

A water nymph astride her studded crest
As briny jewels collide and reappear
We catch a modest glimpse of surf-sprayed breast
Thus quashing gauche attempts to conquer fear
A laugh that lifts above the pounding waves
A music for and of the centuries
A queen attended by her knights and knaves
A grace that can defy Earth's gravities
She dances with the Sun and flirts with Zeus
She floats through time undone and plunders breath
No plot to tantalize or to seduce
Yet in her wake love dies a happy death
Her ghostly silhouette we watch from shore
Her sunset pirouette, and then no more

As best as I can remember, and based on my comments at the time, I believe this began as a sensual dreamy ode to the Ocean; but was quickly associated with Perfection and its transcendent elusiveness. Today, I need to be reminded that despite its inaccessible indifference, the chase is not only worthwhile, but also necessary.

At the age of fifty-something, I am working to redefine myself (more truthfully), and (in a sense) begin again. It is not an easy task; but worthwhile, and (I believe) necessary.